


Untitled, in which Rick eats ass

by yiffymorty



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal Fingering, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Underage Sex, grandparent/child incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:25:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yiffymorty/pseuds/yiffymorty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ASSSSSS........tastes good</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled, in which Rick eats ass

**Author's Note:**

> I have nothing to say for myself. Please let me be in your fandom.

It’s been a few months since they’d broken the ice. After even more months of tension and denial, it was Morty who made the first move, cornering Rick in the garage after one particularly frantic adventure that left them both buzzing with adrenaline. Morty’s kiss was electric, and it had officially marked the end of pretending their relationship was strictly platonic. 

They take it slow, something Rick has never bothered to do before, but Morty is different. For all the shit Rick gives the kid, Morty is his priority when it comes to intimacy, and despite the many times Rick’s antics had put him in danger, Morty trusts the old man. 

When Rick finally gives into Morty’s pleas to take things further, Morty blushes so hard there might as well be steam coming off him. 

Currently, Morty is in his grandpa’s bed, naked except for one sock and his t-shirt bunched up around his armpits. Rick kneels by the side of the bed in his sweat-stained wifebeater and a pair of ratty old briefs, a sight which Morty finds maddeningly arousing.

“C-c’mon, Morty, scoot your butt to the—right up to the edge of the bed. I— _urrp!_ —can’t eat you out if I can’t reach.”

“Jeez, Rick! Y-you don’t have to s-say things like—to be s-so f-forward,” stammers Morty.

Rick snorts. “Jesus christ, Morty, this isn’t some floofy young adult fiction novel. I-I’m about to lick your—to shove my tongue up your asshole, M-Morty.” He helps pull Morty to the edge of the bed and bends his legs up over him. “I’m gonna need to you h-hold ‘em up, Morty. S-so I can get my tongue really—reeeally far up in there.”

Morty throws an elbow over his face and groans, but keeps his knees pressed to his stomach. He’s reminded briefly of the mega-seeds incident. “I kn-know you’re doing this on purpose, Rick.”

Rick snorts again, this time with a smirk. “Obvio— _euuurp!_ —Obviously. It’s called dirty talk, Morty. Now, sh-shut up.” He sits back on his heels and grabs Morty’s ass, massaging and spreading Morty’s cheeks wide with his thumbs. Rick hovers for a moment as if waiting to hear the hitch in Morty’s breath when he feels Rick’s hot exhale—aaand there it is. 

Rick wets his lips and spits on Morty’s asshole. He licks his way up Morty’s crack with the flat of his tongue, making the kid yelp and squirm in surprise. Rick holds him in place, continuing his wet trail up Morty’s taint and ending with just the slightest tease of his balls. Rick looks up after that, scrutinizing what he can see of Morty’s face, and underneath a blush that looks more like a third-degree burn, the kid is grinning weakly. Nice. 

Rick spreads Morty’s cheeks even wider and teases the hole with the tip of his tongue. “Relax,” he orders when he feels the kid’s sphincter clamp down, and tries again when Morty un-tenses. He works his tongue from side to side, gently opening the kid up. He plunges his tongue in deeper, and repeats until his lips are flush against Morty’s asshole. 

Meanwhile, Morty grips the sheets and bites his lip—when he agreed to this, he didn’t think it would be so....good? So sensual? The very _idea_ that Rick wants to do this with him at all is intoxicating. Rick gets into a rhythm of tongue-fucking him while Morty shakes and swallows moans; the kid’s not sure how much longer he can tolerate this before he opens his dumb mouth and begs for more. 

Rick finally pauses to admire the musky taste and drink in the image of Morty’s red, puckered asshole, dripping with Rick’s own saliva. “Morty,” he nearly whispers, rising on shaky knees and bracing himself on the bed so he can pull aside the kid’s arm and look him in the eye. “I wish you could—could see yourself, M-Morty. You h-h-have a great ass, Morty. Y-y-your asshole is a work of ar- _urrrp!—_ of art, Morty. It must run in the family, am I right?”

Before Morty can answer (or bitch, or whatever), Rick kisses him with an open mouth and a tongue that takes Morty by surprise when it slips so easily past his lips and teeth. He tastes himself and briefly wonders about sanitation, but then he’s sucking on Rick’s tongue and holding the man’s head in place while Morty thoroughly ravages his mouth. Rick doesn’t mind this little intermission; Morty is a great kisser and Rick has always loved to admire his own work. 

He can’t waste too much time before Morty closes up and the spit dries, so Rick disappears back to where he was kneeling before, eye to eye with Morty’s asshole. “You ready for my fingers, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” breathes Morty, heart fluttering with anticipation. This will be the closest he’s gotten to fucking Rick, and so far the experience has been wonderful. Morty listens to the sound of a bottle uncapping and the wet _squelch_ of lube being spread between fingers. 

“This is gonna really—it’s gonna be cold, Morty. D-don’t say I d-didn’t warn you.” 

“Nngh, just do it!” insists Morty from above. 

Rick slides one lube-slick finger into Morty’s asshole, and the kid immediately clamps down on him again. “Hey,” scolds Rick, “Loosen up or your old man is gonna lose a finger. Just—j-just relax. It’ll make this easier for the both of us.” 

Morty tries, he really does. But every time Rick moves his finger and Morty’s muscles spasm, his reflexes can’t help clamping down. “I-I don’t know if—if I can, Rick!” 

“Anuses are like Chinese finger traps, M-Morty. You just gotta not be stupid if you want to f-figure it out. Just—you just gotta push. Push out like—like you’re taking a dump.”

“Oh my god, th-that is s-so not something, you—what the fuck? Wh-what if I—”

“I’m not being a smartass here, Morty. Push out like you’re taking a shit and my fingers will slide riiiight in, nice and e— _euuurgh—_ easy. You aren’t gonna shit yourself. That’s what the enema was for, genius.”

“Jesus, Rick, f-f-fine...” Morty does feel better remembering the enema, even though the process itself was weird and uncomfortable. 

Rick lubes up his fingers once more—good thing lube isn’t a rare commodity in any dimension. He smears some around the pucker and tries his finger again. This time, Morty does relax and pushes out, leaving a smooth path for Rick’s index finger to slide in all the way up to the second digit. 

“Good boy,” growls Rick, earnestly proud of the kid for listening to directions, and also because Morty looks fucking hot from this angle and because Rick’s inhibitions about showing affections are dulled from arousal. “Does this feel o— _EUURGH—_ kay?”

Morty illustrates by arching his back and grunting. “Keep going.” 

So Rick does, beginning to add a second finger. Morty jerks back and whines. Rick pauses, looking up with concern, but Morty nods his head. “I s-s-said, k-keep going, Rick.”

He feels Morty gently pushing out again—he really is a good boy—so Rick slides the second finger in just as easily as the first. He begins to work the kid open, his fingers barely moving at first but eventually spread Morty open wider. 

Meanwhile, he eyes Morty’s flaccid cock. Smirking, Rick decides that it is time. 

“You alright, Morty? I’m—I’m gonna show you where your prostate is.”

“O-okay, Rick. But, um, y-you don’t have to keep asking, alright? I w-want this, so...”

“Shut up, Morty.”

Any complaints Morty might have about Rick’s uncharacteristic nagging are left for dead when Rick grazes Morty’s prostate and the kid’s mind goes blank. 

Rick crooks his fingers downward, massaging the spongy tissue and listening to the cacophony of noises Morty has to offer. With fingers still in place, he rises and leans over Morty, not minding the uncomfortable position his wrist is in while he kisses the boy, rough and deep and passionate. Morty returns the kiss with equal fervor, grabbing Rick’s hair with one hand and gripping the Rick’s free wrist to hold him there. When Rick looks down, he sees that Morty’s cock has hardened. 

“You like that?” pants Rick in between kisses, “Y-you like my fingers—when I put my fingers in you?” He dips his head to mouth at Morty’s sweat-soaked neck. “I’m gonna make you—gonna make you cum, Morty, w-without even touching your cock.” 

Morty’s eyes widen in disbelief. Rick is certain he’s about to ask something stupid, so he jams his fingers into Morty’s prostate and the kid’s questions turn into throaty moans. 

“Fuck,” hisses Rick, “K-keep it down! Christ, Morty, if you want to wake the entire—the whole goddamn house, be my fu— _UUUU—_ cking guest, but don’t drag me into this, y-you little shit.” 

Morty whimpers at that, feeling his dick stiffen. Being scolded by Rick was obviously never something Morty was fond of, not to mention getting turned on by it. Yet, here they are. 

“I’m gonna....gonna make you cum so hard, M-Morty,” Rick is panting, mumbling into the kid’s neck, into his ear, against his lips. “You’re never gonna jack off again, Morty. You’re g-gonna always have something to—gonna have to shove something up your ass to get off.” Rick feels Morty contract around his fingers, his inner walls spasming as the kid breathes faster. Rick grins. “That’s it, fuck yeeeah, fuckin’ cum for me, Morty. I’m gonna ruin you, Morty, I’m gonna make you—”

“Ahh, Rick!” Morty interjects, gripping the man’s shoulders tightly, “I-I’m c-close, R-Rick, I’m so close, I’m gonna—I-I-I’m—I’m cumming, Rick!” 

Rick hums contentedly into Morty’s hair, just savoring the moment and the smell of sex and sweat permeating the room. Rick keeps fingering him while semen sprays both their chests, milking Morty’s prostate for all it’s worth. 

“S-stop, Rick,” whines Morty, weakly, “I c-c-can’t take anymore. F-fuck!”

“Alright, alright babe,” says Rick, suddenly self-conscious of the last word to slip out on accident. If Morty hears or cares, he doesn’t say anything. Rick slowly pulls his fingers out and wipes them on his sweaty undershirt, which he then pulls off over his head and uses to clean them both up, taking care to pat Morty’s sore ass dry. 

Rick maneuvers Morty so that he’s lying the right way on the bed, tosses the soiled shirt aside and flops down besides his still-panting grandson. “Th-that was....fuck. That f-f-fucking—it was really fucking good.”

“Just good?” says Rick, mock-defensively while grinning stupidly, proudly. 

“F-fine. It was _incredible,_ ” Morty corrects, rolling his eyes but turning towards Rick to nuzzle the coarse hair on his chest. “You’re really fucking hot, you know that, right?”

“No shit,” Rick mumbles into Morty’s hair, strangely content to just lie here. Morty looks up at him, eyelids heavy. “So, uh....w-what about you? D-do you want m-me to...”

“Ehh? Oh— _euuugh_ —whatever. You can sleep or— _urrrp!_ —you can suck me off. It’s up to you. I’m okay if you—I’m f-fine with either.”

**Author's Note:**

> psssst I'm [yiffymorty](http://yiffymorty.tumblr.com) on tumblr too, come request stuff maybe?


End file.
